Well, It Took a Minute
by Dixie Dewdrop's Seven Brides
Summary: Adam McFadden has forged his evolution from brother to parent through intuition, love, his parents' example, and even some mistakes. Adam reflects upon that transformation and his priorities one beautiful Sunday morning.
1. Moments

Moments

Adam McFadden pulled the truck onto the gravel parking area and slid the vehicle into park. A quick glance at his watch reassured him that he had managed to ferry his family to church with almost ten minutes to spare before Sunday school began.

Success! He was batting a thousand!

His brothers tumbled out all around him but stood patiently in a semi-circle beside the driver's door as he had methodically trained them to do in the past months. Breaking their habit of taking off and scattering the second their boots hit the ground nearly exhausted him. Yet he persevered, and now they knew to stay put until he actually dismissed them.

He harbored no inner motive. Adam simply wanted that last opportunity to check for clean faces or to issue instructions or reminders- a closure, of sorts.

There in front of him, though, stood proof that he had won.

Adam smiled approvingly. "Good job, guys."

Six faces responded with grins.

"Everyone have your Sunday School money?" Adam narrowed his eyes.

Six heads nodded, and Guthrie gripped a dollar in his dimpled hand. Adam worried that he baby would pop loose change in his mouth so he always handed him paper money instead. Of course, an alternative existed in not sending Guthrie with any cash at all, but Guthrie nixed that idea. When the youngest realized Adam's plan set out to exclude him he protested- loudly.

And won.

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. "Best behavior, right?"

Six voices responded, "Yes!"

"Ok," Adam tugged Daniel to him and tucked the back of the child's plaid shirt into his navy pants and straightened the belt. "Everyone have good manners."

He stooped down to pick up the baby, but the toddler backed away and declared defiantly. "No, Guthrie only." He held his chubby fist out so that Adam could see the crumpled dollar.

Adam took a second look. The edges on one side of the bill appeared a bit ragged.

Guthrie had probably bitten it.

Resigned, Adam regarded the stance of the tiny body and Guthrie's expressive green eyes. "Ok, then, that means you have to cross the church yard, climb the steps to the classrooms, and then take yourself to the nursery. Can you handle it?"

Guthrie's face lit and he hastened to toddle away but Evan grabbed his shoulder to restrain him. "Wait Guthrie, wait for Adam to say for us to go ahead and go."

Adam surveyed the group before him with a sense of pride and satisfaction. If he did say so himself, he had a very handsome family. He smiled agreeably. "Go ahead. I'll see you in a bit."

All of them took off, no doubt hoping to meet with church friends before Sunday School officially began, and Guthrie's legs pumped to keep up with his brothers.

Adam watched discreetly as the toddler fell behind. Instead of stopping in frustration, however, Guthrie kept going. Adam felt a stab of pride as his 2 ½ year old launched himself up the steps and into the white wooden annex building.

Adam followed the progress until he witnessed the baby physically turn into the nursery.

Adam glanced again at his watch. His own young adult class would begin momentarily. He quickened his step down the carpeted hall, pausing briefly at all classrooms which McFaddens populated.

He satisfied himself that the normally rowdy boys sat quietly and attentively with peers.

Chelsea Carter slipped up behind to tap him on the shoulder. "Hey, Cowboy," she whispered.

Adam grinned and pulled her around to face him. "Hey yourself!"

Chelsea had reappeared in his life that winter and they acknowledged the sparks that once flew between them in high school had not extinguished.

Their bond gave credence to the yin and yang philosophy.

Her vivacious nature had always balanced Adam's more reticent one. Physically her blond hair and blue eyes differed from his dark hair and dark eyes and he stood several inches taller than she. As a couple, the relationship's strengths had blossomed from the unmistakable fact that Adam and Chelsea were such opposites.

"Sit beside me in Sunday School?" she invited.

Adam licked his lips, "Well, I'd be delighted…."

"Take a raincheck on that, you two." Their pastor's voice interrupted.

Adam pivoted in surprise. "Good morning, Reverend Samuels."

A blushing Chelsea moved away from him.

The preacher smiled. "I certainly didn't mean to interject myself in your plans but Adam, I want to speak with you this morning."

Chelsea hurriedly offered her goodbyes and excused herself.

Reverend Samuels motioned Adam and they crossed two corridors and entered the pastor's office. The older man gestured. "Take a seat, Son."

Adam slipped into a plaid armchair directly in front of the desk, more than a bit confused. "Did something happen?"

Reverend Samuels shook his head no and held up a hand to signal a pause.

The pastor poured two steaming cups of coffee from a carafe on the side table. He handed one to Adam before taking his own seat.

"A perk with my position," the pastor grinned, holding his cup above him. "no pun intended, of course! Help yourself to sugar and cream." Reverend Samuels indicated to the supplies beside the coffee pot.

"Thank you for the coffee," Adam spoke. "But Sir, Sunday School is starting."

"Correct. Today we have skipped, or we intend to skip, both Sunday School and Church."

"I don't understand."

The reverend's expression softened and he lowered his voice. "Adam, the anniversary of your parents' deaths will arrive shortly, and my conscience has nagged me incessantly because I have not reached out to you enough this past year. You are an incredible young man, Adam, a young man who stepped up all those months ago and shouldered the responsibility of rearing six brothers."

Adam slid back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. He rested the cup on the chair's arm and waited.

"I owe you an apology. Other than snatched conversations here at church and occasional visits to the ranch I have not supported you the way I should have."

Adam contradicted, "No sir, that is the furthest from the truth. You and this church, along with neighbors and friends, made it possible for me to lead my family."

Reverend Samuels leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desktop. "You have achieved the nearly impossible at eighteen."

"Nineteen," Adam corrected. "I had a birthday in January."

"Eighteen when you lost them," Reverend Samuels corrected gently.

A brief flash of pain clouded Adam's features.

Reverend Samuels toned down his expression. "As I said, I have examined myself and found I have come up short where you are concerned….."

"No, I won't agree to that," Adam interrupted.

"Let me finish." The preacher smiled to ease the sting of the reprimand. "Today I have arranged to have another parishioner lead my own Sunday School class, and one of our deacons will conduct the church service. If you consent, I'd like to spend the next two hours conversing-just talking and catching up with you."

Adam rubbed his chin. "You'll have to stretch to make two hours. Really my life is pretty routine."

Reverend Samuels regarded him thoughtfully. "Far from it, Son." He leaned back in his chair and examined the strong features of Adam's face. Truly, the fact that the young man had kept the family intact defied logic. "In a nutshell- tell me how you have managed to parent, lead, teach, mature- how you have managed as the head of household all these months."

Adam slowly inhaled a deep breath. He picked up his coffee cup and exhaled as he tried to decide where to begin a response. Finally he smiled ruefully at his pastor. "Truthfully? Yes, well…Well, it took a minute."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"Ok, well now that makes sense." Reverend Samuels leaned back in his seat. "Talk to me about the beginning. What comes to mind?"

Adam glanced at his hands self-consciously. "Stretched so thin that I couldn't see straight or breathe right. Short-tempered. Exhausted."

"Yet here I see a man I admire," the pastor spoke sincerely. "What took a minute? Talk to me about how you have done this."

"Ok," Adam replied simply.

 **In the first months after he grabbed the reins of the family Adam McFadden fell into bed so exhausted each night and with his subconscious so depleted it wouldn't expend enough energy for him to even dream.**

Adam felt he functioned robotically, only capable of dealing with one chunk of each day at a time.

After the first two months he had practiced the routine long enough to relax his fear that his orphaned household barely clung to life. Somehow he had managed to keep all seven of them fed, clothed, in school, and emotionally stable.

All that while he struggled to operate the ranch.

As time passed those first couple of months the nights reluctantly returned to invite opportunities to lose himself in dreamland. Only while there did he feel the tension and iron grip of terror around his heart begin to dissipate.

He took stock.

Notoriously hard and unforgiving as he was on himself he still could not deny the fact that he had not failed. He hadn't failed himself, and he hadn't failed his brothers.

Still, he acknowledged he needed to progress and to do better. Though his self-control improved after a few weeks, he still reacted all too often with a frayed, short temper.

Maybe sometimes the response could be justified.

Then again, maybe not.

A clear illustration involved Daniel, who had developed the habit of repeating himself to the point that Adam would finally snap irritably at the seven year old.

Once Daniel zoned in on an idea it was difficult to make him desert the topic.

Daniel decided he wanted a radio controlled car after he played with one at another child's party in July.

He advocated for himself, reminding all listeners of how he would embrace the toy.

Daniel would flip any conversation into an opportunity to insert a plea for the car. He would ambush Adam at meals, at bedtime, in the car, or just anywhere and beg repeatedly to get one.

Adam replied patiently (dozens of times) that Daniel might want to save the car for his Christmas list.

However, Daniel did not want to wait.

One quiet late spring evening Daniel bombarded him as Adam picked ripe vegetables from their home garden.

He directed the little boy to sweep the porch and steps.

Daniel regarded him shrewdly. "Will you buy me a radio controlled car when I sweep the porch?"

"No, 'fraid not."

"Why not"

"You don't get a reward for completing chores."

"What if I worked really hard?"

"No, listen Daniel…."

The child interrupted. "You said you would get me one!"

Adam put his hands on his hips and leaned backwards to stretch. His back protested. "Don't interrupt me."

Daniel's face morphed into a scowl and his transformation into a small combatant escalated.

Adam continued. "No, I told you already I don't have the money and you will need to wait and ask at Christmas."

"But Adam, I want the radio car now! I can play with it all the time."

"Daniel stop!" Adam ordered. "Stop talking about that car! You're not getting one before Christmas and if you keep bringing the car up you won't have a chance of getting it Christmas either. Understand?"

"You don't know. Maybe Santa…"

Adam raised his voice. "Stop whining about the car right now, Daniel! Not another word had better come out of your mouth." He narrowed his eyes. "Not one word."

Daniel's eyes filled but Adam ignored the tears and ordered, "Now if that porch is not finished in ten minutes you will be going to bed when Guthrie does tonight."

Despite the threat, Daniel opened his mouth and Adam shook his finger. "Not a sound, Daniel."

Later Adam chided himself for snapping at the child. Daniel was just a seven year old, after all.

A little over a decade earlier he had devilled his parents for an elaborate racetrack for his Matchbox cars.

More than likely his incessant whining had driven his parents to distraction, too.

Daniel wasn't the only source of Adam's guilt.

Evan-he of the normally laid back, happy go lucky, extroverted nature, could sabotage Adam's best intentions with his frustrating eating habits. Depending upon his mood and whatever timetable existed in his six year old head, Evan either cooperated or he did not.

He did not respond to happy in-betweens.

First of all, Evan refused to allow any food item to touch any other food item on his plate. So for example if Adam ladled a spoon of butterbeans onto the plate and the beans touched the child's potatoes, Evan would balk. The meal would turn into a battle zone with Adam insisting the little boy eat anyway and Evan's just as insistent response that the food was messy, or he was full, or any other rationale he created to offer as his reason for not eating.

If that weren't enough to cost Adam his sanity, Evan compounded the torture by methodically eating one food item off of his plate at a time. As an illustration, he would eat his entire helping of chicken and nothing else. Then he would eat all of his peas. Once none remained he would turn his attention to his rice.

Despite his inner resolve to extend more patience towards Evan, Adam often fell below the mark. He found Evan's culinary approaches deliberate ploys to destroy his sanity some days, and he found himself snapping at the little boy and hurrying him to finish.

Did Adam have second thoughts later and wish he'd reacted differently? Absolutely!

Where the family was concerned Adam felt stretched too thin- every single brother deserved his attention but some days he barely managed to acknowledge them all as he confronted one responsibility after another. Though it leveled over time and he was able to juggle, organize, and schedule, he still felt he shortchanged some of the boys some of the time and all of the boys all of the time.

Of all his brothers, he worried he slighted Brian most often. Common sense told him that he could attribute most of that to the fact that Brian was so much older and so much more independent. And to be fair, Adam ferried all of the boys to all of Brian's football games, even those out of town.

Adam always presented a solid show of support and recognized the importance of his presence. Despite his age, Brian would search the field for Adam several times each game.

Losing their parents had pretty much destroyed inner security for all of them.

During fall and spring schoolwide conferences he presented himself at Brian's parent conferences and routinely checked on Brian's academics throughout the school year, as well.

But because Brian was so self-sufficient, and even Crane to a certain extent, Adam did not have to check behind them or supervise them as diligently as with the younger siblings.

That, in itself, caused him to feel he slighted Brian. For example, as he double checked Ford, Evan, and Daniel had bathed, brushed their teeth, and chosen school clothes for the next day he interacted with them conversationally. Reading them bedtime stories also provided additional opportunities for heartfelt chats or simple check-ins.

Crane still allowed Adam to read to him sometimes, but only a page or two of whatever book Crane had borrowed from the school library.

The same couldn't be said for Brian.

No matter what, though, Adam always stepped in to wish both Brian and a Crane good night.

And of course Guthrie routinely usurped the lion's share of Adam's attention simply because of his age and availability. As a toddler he was the only child left at home all day once Ford entered kindergarten. Thus, Adam had him twenty four hours a day, whereas with the others, it was more like fifteen hours minus the bedtime hours.

And stretched thin didn't just apply to his brothers. He had sacrificed his social life- no, maybe all others had understandably given up on him after so many declined invitations. When he did fraternize it generally occurred at public events, like church or the county fair.

Adam's reunion with Chelsea had renewed some sparks, or perhaps the better conclusion was the reunion reignited the sparks. Other than Church, nearly all of the time they spent together happened because Chelsea drove out to the house to visit. Even then, spending any private time would not occur until after bedtime for the Itty Bitties.

They did snatch some moments, and in the past months had actually enjoyed two bona fide trips out of town for supper and a movie. It had demanded a bit of wrangling and scheduling dependent upon times when at least two of the boys spent the nights with friends, but the planning and effort had been worth it.

Adam allowed himself to relax enough to enjoy Chelsea's company, to appreciate the fact that they could slip into the comfortable atmosphere surrounding two teenagers upon a date.

Chelsea understood Adam's familial role, and it pleased him that she interacted with the younger boys with patience and genuine affection.

Deep inside Adam struggled within himself. She wanted more from him, more commitment than he offered and on the surface his heart leapt. To have a love interest who accepted his brothers, who agreed with his pledge to rear them, and who still sought a relationship with him despite his

duty should fill him with hope, with love and joy.

He wanted to feel that way.

But he couldn't.

They were eighteen-and now nineteen- years old, just babies when it came down to it. Decades of life lay before them both. Adam had considered his personal decision to sacrifice college and future the only avenue open to him for the sake of his family. Adam'sheart alternated between appreciation that she wanted him, and fear that once she had him she would resent him for prioritizing his brothers.

Reverend Samuels stood and stretched before resuming his seat. He smiled at Adam, who sat quietly, forearms resting on his thighs.

"Adam, you have a life, too, and you need to cut yourself some slack."

Adam rubbed his chin. "Yes, I know that." He smiled shyly at the pastor. "I work hard to do the right thing but sometimes it just gets muddled."

"Son, I see a young man stretched thin between tending to his boys and who worries about his exhaustion and temper. Good for you for actively addressing your own perceived short comings. Your daily path circles around the welfare of your family, though, and you need to remind yourself that the mistakes that you have made and that you will make have not been forged in malice. I promise you right here that there is not a parent on this earth who will not provide you with a list of mistakes, wrong conclusions, and missteps occurring through interactions with their kids."

Adam nodded, "Okay."

"And rest assured there will be plenty more. But Adam, forgive yourself. Think you can handle that?"

Adam smiled. "I'll try."

Reverend Samuels drummed his fingers on his desk. "Does Adam the brother still exist, or is Adam the parent the one at home?"


	2. Seasons

Seasons

 **At some point in his life's journey over the past year Adam transitioned from full-time brother to full-time parent to Guthrie, Ford, Evan, and Daniel. With Crane, his paternal role spanned a good ninety percent, while with Brian, sixty to seventy percent would be more accurate.**

Adam often reminded himself that the fact he presided as the eldest McFadden brother aided his segue into the parental role in which he found himself thrust that horrible, surreal day his folks died.

Before then, the younger boys had long taken orders from their sibling, though admittedly not always with good grace. Echoes of "Mama, Adam's bossing me!" or "Tell Adam to quit telling me what to do, Daddy!" occurred upon any occasion when the younger kids suspected Adam of abusing his big brother power.

And in all honesty, once in a while back in those innocent days Adam did abuse his power, for the simple reason that he could. It was the natural born right of the eldest child!

Those days with two parents dealing with the boys' bickering and doling out corrections disappeared.

Like it or not, Adam now legitimately bossed them all.

Ironically, that fact gave him no satisfaction.

The cloak of parenthood kept him clouded with a constant state of uncertainty in those first awful weeks. Once the family shifted into the routine of the new normal Adam felt some of the suffocating weight of responsibility evaporate, though.

His morning prayers always included entreaties that God guide his steps each day.

So his experience and confidence grew.

Nevertheless, Adam often experienced guilt and inner turmoil with his weary reliance upon commands such as, "Come here right now!" or "I'm not telling you again," as well as, "Homework first," or "When I check I want to find you doing what I said."

At night when he reflected upon his interactions and actions he tended to fixate upon negative events rather than upon any positive ones.

Despite his concern, the good far, far, outweighed the bad.

Two weeks earlier the family had been invited to a bar-be-cue at a ranch belonging to old friends of their McFadden parents. The boys and Adam doubled down on ranch work in the days preceding to carve out free time the Saturday afternoon and evening of the supper.

As he drove to the Jordans Adam recognized he was as excited as his brothers. It had been much too long since the family socialized in such a fashion.

The McFaddens were not the only family invited, and the Jordan spread overflowed with people of all ages, neighbors and acquaintances just as eager to enjoy the day. A live band played continuously with bluegrass and country selections and laughter and chatter surrounded Adam as he led the boys around the house to greet his hosts.

In the company of the older couple Adam felt a current of security settle upon him. The fact that the Jordans were grownups, trustworthy grownups, allowed him to relax and slip back in time towards the carefree role of a teenager which had been his by rights before the tragic loss of his parents.

The Jordans hugged and kissed each of them, patted cheeks and tweaked noses. Adam wasn't the only one who reveled in the attention. The boys outdid themselves trying to talk over each other to share school information and preen as the Jordans declared them handsome, tall, talented, and brilliant.

The property teemed with so many neighbors that the McFadden boys could immediately locate friends and classmates. Adam barely managed to issue instructions to the boys to touch base with him before they skedaddled, racing to join the fun in six different directions.

Even little Guthrie toddled purposefully to a group of smaller kids gathered near the edge of the main yard. Adam followed for several feet but paused when he saw that an entire area had been carefully arranged with the smallest set in mind. Three tire swings hung fairly low to the ground while small ladders provided steps for the kids to climb to launch themselves on top of bales of hay. Smaller bales beneath provided cushioning so the little ones could jump from the taller bales to the smaller ones. Some smaller farm animals wandered the preschool space: a baby goat, a baby pig, a few ducks, and very young kitties.

Adam could relax. One of the younger ranch hands supervised the area.

As for the Itty Bitties, Adam walked around to the back area and discovered Evan, Daniel, and Ford laughing and shouting in the midst of a group of a dozen or so elementary kids. Ford was the fairest of the three, very blond. Evan's hair was a darker blond while Daniel was a brunette. They were good looking boys and for a moment Adam just stood and stared. A wave of emotion radiated through him as he recalled how his dad's teasing voice would call out for them. "Polka dots! Polka dots! Time to eat!" The boys would laugh and their mom would laugh with them. "Well, for Itty Bitties, we do have two blonds and a brunette, so I guess that makes them Itty Bitty Polka Dots," she would smile, gathering the three little boys to her.

Adam closed his eyes and waited for the memory to evaporate.

When he opened them again he the elementary set had divided into two groups to form lines for a game of Red Rover. He continued to watch a few more seconds. The Jordans had appointed a couple of farmhands to man that area also. Adam noted preparation for some tutorials on lassoing and roping, as well as practice areas for archery and vaulting.

Adam grinned at the spectacle of an entire population of kids in the same age category as his three, and acknowledged the hidden talents of schoolteachers who could not only manage them all, but manage to instruct them, as well.

Adam reversed course and checked on Guthrie again. The toddler had climbed halfway up a bale of hay and Adam couldn't restrain a chuckle. The tot concentrated so hard on the task that straw already covered most of his Kelly green romper. Adam had brought a change of clothes, but he liked the green of the outfit because it brought out the green of the baby's eyes.

Finally Adam changed course once again and took off towards the barn where he recognized Crane's friends Ryan and Tyler in formation for a game of football. Adam scanned the area. Groups of tween girls huddled on the outskirts of the field, giggling and confiding secrets to each other. At their age, trying to appear more grown up poignantly contradicted the reality that they were still just kids.

Adam narrowed his eyes and began a more thorough scan of the boys playing football. He couldn't find Crane's thin frame with either the defense or the offense. A twinge of panic began to form in the pit of his stomach.

Why would Crane not interact with his friends? Had he had a fuss with them? Was he feeling sick?

Just two days before Crane had complained of a sore throat. Adam had given him some medicine and it had done the trick, but what if Crane really had strep or flu or pneumonia and Adam missed it?

The pre-teen girls linked arms and began to march the perimeter of the makeshift field, giggling loudly, which gave Adam a view of the tree line that had been behind them. He located Crane then, and couldn't suppress a grin when he saw that Crane held hands with his sixth grade girlfriend, Alyssa, as the two wandered aimlessly along the tree border.

They were too far away for Adam to hear the conversation, but by their body language, the two appeared to be exchanging pleasant observations. Adam shook his head delightedly. Who would have thought that pensive, quiet Crane would turn out to be the family's Romeo, rather than extroverts Brian or Daniel?

Speaking of Brian, Adam chose another path that circled him back towards the Jordan home. He climbed the steps onto the spacious veranda and skirted the house to the back. As he suspected, Brian and his group had staked out an entire section of porch for themselves.

Adam's eyes found his younger brother and for a moment Adam froze in confusion. When had Brian's legs gotten so long? When had Brian become so muscular? How long had it been since Adam heard him laugh so freely?

Adam noted that Brian's choice of a white shirt with blue stripes brought out the blue in his eyes, no doubt a fact Brian realized when he dressed for the outing.

Brian nodded imperceptibly and Adam shook his head and grinned. No, nothing was wrong. He just wanted to check on his brother's whereabouts.

The others glanced up and called out greetings. Adam identified Brian's inner circle, the very ones who had skipped school with him a couple of months earlier.

Adam frowned, concentrating. No, it had to be more than a couple of months because he had grounded Brian for that incident, and the last few weeks Brian had been on his regular schedule.

Adam rubbed his chin. Time tended to run together.

Brian relaxed on the porch rail propped against one of the columns. His current girlfriend, Karly, stood leaning against him, Brian's arms resting loosely around her neck. Bransen, Brian's best friend, sprawled in a wicker chair, feet propped on the rail. Adam didn't see his girlfriend, Ila, but spied another of Brian's good friends, Derek, and his girlfriend, Sophie. Several other teens flanked Brian, and Adam felt a tug of pride that Brian clearly was the attraction, the popular one, the focal point.

Curiosity sated, Adam waved in dismissal and retraced his steps.

From the vantage point of the porch he spied a group of adults in a far section of the field allotted as the bar-be-cue area, with many familiar faces among them. He checked Guthrie before joining the group of men gathered around a fire pit where several tremendous hunks of meat sizzled on spits over the fire pit, the aromas mingling together as a tantalizing paradise.

Adam licked his lips. It had been too long since he had enjoyed a cookout like this.

Once he actually joined the men he spotted a couple of high school friends and they moved to the side to catch up, though Adam offered to help with the barbecuing first. But the Jordans had hosted picnics for years and had the entire operation finely tuned. They always provided and cooked the meat, while neighbors contributed the rest of the bounty- desserts, vegetables, breads, salads, drinks, silverware, and paper products.

Adam glanced at the door to the Jordan's home again and a flood of emotion slammed him. How many times had he entered on his mama's footsteps and marched to the kitchen loaded down with dishes she had made him carry from their vehicle? He would juggle a couple of hot dishes while his mother rearranged the serving area to accommodate the McFadden contributions. Brian would follow a couple of minutes after with more dishes and stand patiently while their mother settled everything to her satisfaction once again.

Adam felt his breath catch. He clenched his jaw and took a few moments to control his emotions. That was his mother, all right. Despite the fact that other families contributed a single food item, she always brought several, because, she reminded her family, there were nine McFaddens. They always paid their way.

Adam bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to allow the physical pain to mask his emotional pain.

It worked.

For a few minutes Adam joined the conversation around him and reveled in just being part of the group of men.

One of the hands squinted at a small figure crossing the field. He pointed toward the area before consulting Adam. "That one of yours, McFadden?"

Adam's gaze followed the man's direction. Sure enough, little Evan plodded purposefully toward the group. Adam excused himself and went to meet his little brother.

Evan grinned at Adam's appearance and threw up his arms. Adam swung him up into a hug before setting him back onto the ground. "What's up, little pup?"

"Well, I came to say something. Can I go on the hayride?" Evan grinned.

Adam pretended to ponder. "Hayride? Nobody has a hayride planned."

"Yes, they do," Evan giggled.

"Let me think," Adam brushed back the child's blond bangs. "I do believe you are jumping the gun here. Hayrides usually don't start until after lunch."

"I know," Evan protested. "I just wanna know ahead of time. I need to make my plans."

Adam laughed at the serious response. "Well good for you, my little man. The answer is yes, all of you can ride." Adam frowned. "Except Guthrie."

"I can hold him," Evan offered. I won't let him fall off or stuff straw in his nose or anything like that."

The child's readiness to care for his brother and sincere tone touched Adam. He reached down and tilted Evan's chin up so he could make eye contact. "Appreciate that. But today I want you and your brothers to have a fantastic time playing with your friends and just loving being kids. I don't want you babysitting for me. I'll take care of Guthrie. You take care of making sure you and Ford don't get hay inside your clothes and into your underwear. That would itch your butts and then you'd come crying to me!"

Evan laughed delightedly and Adam patted his cheek. "Go back with your friends. You have a chunk of time free before we eat."

"Okay," Evan began his journey walking backwards, but pivoted and slipped into a run, little legs pumping with exertion. Adam watched the small body with a bit of wonder.

The child's energy rarely ever flagged, and Adam had learned over the months that generally if Evan slowed unexpectedly it meant some type of illness lurked in his future.

The boy was a firecracker.

Hours later Adam sat contentedly at one of the long picnic tables arranged on the Jordan property. Guthrie lay across his lap sound asleep, hair tousled and clothes much the worse for wear. The toddler had played hard before lunch with his pre-k buddies and once his tummy was full from lunch he crashed.

Adam waved across the yard. Daniel, Evan, and Ford peeped out between the side rails of the hay wagon and waved back, barely able to restrain their excitement over the much anticipated hay ride.

There were actually three wagons in line. Once everyone was loaded the wagons would meander down roads and through the ranch for an hour or so before returning to the house.

Crane appeared at his side and Adam swiveled to see Alyssa waiting patiently at the edge of the yard. She smiled shyly, "Hey, Mr. McFadden."

"Hey yourself. Why are you and Crane not riding?"

Crane slid onto the bench. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Adam. Do I have to go on the same wagon as the little kids for the hayride?"

It proved difficult to conceal a smile. Adam pursed his lips instead and pretended to think. "If you are referring to your brothers, no, you don't have to ride on the same wagon."

Crane pondered the response for a second. "Daniel said we did because that was what you would say anyway."

"Why would you listen to Daniel on an issue like that?"

"I didn't really, but I wanted to double check." Relief washed over the boy's expression and Crane motioned to Alyssa with a smile. "Come on, we can ride one of the other wagons."

Adam grabbed Crane's wrist. "Hold on a second. When the ride's over it will be time for us to head home, so don't take off anywhere."

Crane arched his eyebrows. "Where would I go?"

"Hmmm…." Adam dropped his wrist. "Never mind. Go enjoy yourselves."

Alyssa and Crane scurried off holding hands and Adam shook his head. That little brother already had some romance in him.

A tap on his shoulder moved his attention to Mrs. Jordan. She leaned down to stroke Guthrie's face. "We have some pallets down on the living room floor for the little ones. Why don't you go set him down there with the others?"

"I appreciate it." Adam managed to carry Guthrie to the house and slide him onto a pallet by three other toddlers without waking him.

He stood and stretched before jogging out to the dining area. Adam spotted Chelsea and several other young ladies spreading netting over desserts and breads. Brian and his group had lined one area with ice and all of the leftover cold foods were placed on top. Across from those tables stood a smaller warming area with a small fire pit under metal grates. All of the foods which needed to remain warm had been housed there.

Guest could help themselves all afternoon and evening since the picnic would continue for hours, with people dropping in and later going home. Some would return.

Adam had warned his crew before they left that they would head to the house mid-afternoon. As it turned out, they returned at dusk, having stayed at the insistence of both Mr. and Mrs. Jordan. The extra time had allowed the boys to compete in several games of skill, join in ranch inspired singalongs close to the house, and even listen to a couple of tall tales narrated with gusto by the eldest two gentlemen of their community.

They piled out of the truck and into the house in a heap of worn out bodies. Tired as well, Adam eyed them all in resignation. Hay still stuck to them, clothes were not only dirty but in the case of Ford and Daniel, ripped, and they had exhausted themselves.

In a good way, Adam reminded himself, they had exhausted themselves in a good way.

He pointed upstairs and no one argued.

A chorus of "Night, Adam," and "Thank you, Adam," floated toward him. The boys began stripping off clothes as they mounted the steps and yanking off boots and Adam watched without interfering.

If felt so very pleasant for a change to have allowed his family this one day of absolutely spectacular freedom and fun.

Adam felt good.

 **A cough startled him and before he could catch himself, Adam flinched.**

 **Reverend Samuels smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Son. I took too big a swallow and choked."**

 **Adam grinned self-consciously. "I don't know what makes me so jumpy for no real reason."**

"Don't apologize." The pastor regarded him thoughtfully. "You wear many hats, Adam. Even if I had never watched you at the bar-be-cue I would know that. You're a chameleon of sorts."

"True," Adam agreed.

"Quite the chameleon," Reverend Samuels continued. "So what made the biggest impact on you that day, the day of the bar-be-cue?"

Adam distractedly rubbed his jawline and smiled self-consciously. "Getting to sit back and watch my brothers have fun."

Reverend Samuels agreed. "Yes, because your time is generally spent keeping them healthy, keeping a roof over their heads, and keeping food on the table."

"I guess so."

Neither spoke for a couple of minutes, both lost in their own thoughts.

The older man adjusted his glasses.

"Break down the big brother/ daddy roles for me. How do you know when to apply one or the other?" Reverend Samuels leaned forward. "Adam, you have been the big brother longer than you've been the parent. How do you separate the two? Or do you?"


	3. Lifetimes

Lifetimes

 **Adam exhaled slowly and met the minister's gaze. "Honestly? I don't know that I do. I mean I never consciously determine to act as one or the other." He paused and added apologetically, "I probably should think about the question a bit before I finish that answer."**

"Adam! Adam! Adam!" Ford's voice called from the side of the barn and Adam stopped tightening the hinge on one of the stalls to gauge for fear in the voice. Ford yelled for him again and Adam relaxed.

Something had excited Ford, not scared him.

"In here," he shouted back, giving the iron hinge a final twist before testing his handiwork. The clasp's position satisfied him. He wiped the palms of his hands down the sides of his jeans and gathered his tools.

Ford burst into the barn and Adam glanced up and saw a mouth smeared with blood. Panic slammed and he reached out and pulled the child to him.

"Look!" the little boy ordered, opening his mouth wide and pointing toward one of his back teeth. "My tooth's almost out right this very second!" To illustrate his contention he shoved one grubby finger into his mouth and wiggled the tooth.

"Wait, stop sticking your fingers inside your mouth," Adam directed. "Your hand's dirty. Don't touch it. Tilt your head back and let me take a look."

Ford followed the order, throwing his head all the way back and opening his jaws comically wide. He practically throbbed with his excitement and attempted to talk while Adam examined him.

Adam started laughing. "You are so silly. Quit talking for a minute."

Ford did and Adam gained a better look. "Come on," he motioned the little boy. "I can stop what I'm doing here. Let's head to the house and wash our hands and see just how close you are to losing that one."

Ford grabbed his older brother's hand and swung it, his tiny fingers intertwined with Adam's strong ones. "Walk fast, Adam, 'cause if it comes out today the Tooth Fairy visits tonight and that hasn't even happened to me for a long, long time!"

"True," Adam confirmed, automatically shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans to check for change or a stray bill. "Let's get to the kitchen though before you count your largesse."

"What's margest mean?"

"Largesse, not margest," Adam corrected. "It means a gift."

"Know what I'm planning to do with my tooth fairy money?"

"Save it, I hope," Adam replied. "Your piggy bank needs a donation."

"Nope, when I go to town I'm going to buy candy or Legos or something I love a whole lot."

Adam tried to offer an alternative as they climbed the porch steps and entered the house. "If you put it in your piggy bank you could save it with your other money. When you have enough money saved, you could buy something really special."

That suggestion horrified Ford. "No, I want to spend my tooth fairy money now!" He hurried to the kitchen sink and stood frowning.

Resigned, Adam lifted Ford up to wash his hands before washing his own. As soon as he touched the tooth in question it tilted. "Hmmm…." Adam regarded the little boy. "This one wants to adios. Ready?"

"Uh huh," Ford confirmed. He patted Adam's hand. "Don't worry. I won't cry."

"Glad to hear it. Let me make you some salt water first so we have it ready." Adam ran the water tap until it was warm, filled a tumbler, and stirred in a spoon of salt. "How about the porch steps?"

Ford followed obediently and as soon as he settled on the wooden stair Adam reached in and yanked the tooth into a napkin. He held it out for Ford's inspection and the little boy grinned. "Here," Adam directed, handing him the tumbler of water. "Remember not to swallow, please. Gargle so the salt water can help the empty tooth socket, then spit it out. Keep at it until the water is finished."

That night Ford could barely slip into sleep, so excited was he at the prospect of the tooth fairy's visit. He reminded Adam several times to leave his bedroom door ajar, just in case the tooth fairy flew in but decided to leave from an alternate route. Sliding the money under Ford's pillow that night and exchanging it for the tiny tooth Adam spent several moments just marveling at the little boy. He loved the child's sweet innocence.

In his bedroom Adam slipped the tooth into a small envelope and labeled it with Ford's name and the date. He wanted to deposit the tooth in the strongbox at the top of his parents' closet, the one they had designated to house childhood treasures and memorabilia they wanted to keep.

Adam maneuvered the box carefully so that the contents did not rain out all over the floor. He set it on the chest of drawers before lifting the lid and adding the tooth. A letter on the top caught his eye, one addressed to Santa, and he recognized it as one Evan had written a few months before, for the first and only Christmas they had celebrated without their parents.

Adam picked it up and rotated it to study the drawing the little boy had added to the paper's edge. Evan had colored yellow and green reindeer, cut them out, and attached them to a picture of a Christmas tree. Adam marveled at the artistry and recalled the way the boys had sat around the coffee table in the living room to write those letters. Adam and Brian had watched as they wrote first, then decorated, spelling words when the kids asked and handing over markers one at a time. Crane pitched in by occupying Guthrie to keep him from interrupting his brothers. Surprisingly after all the preparation, the boys had only listed a couple of things each that they hoped Santa would bring.

Adam had felt a weight lift from his shoulders when he saw their choices- those were gifts he could make happen.

Despite the loss of their parents just months earlier, the family managed to enjoy the Christmas festivities. The boys were excited with their presents, and Adam watched their eyes light as they took stock of what Santa had brought as well as the gifts under the tree.

Somehow he had pulled off a great holiday, complete with a traditional meal. The food did not quite meet the caliber of his mama's cooking but it came close, thanks to her insistence that her boys learn to cook specific dishes over the years.

Brian had insisted they decorate the house the way their parents always had for the Christmas season. The decor delighted the boys and helped to infuse Adam with some Christmas spirit.

Still he missed his mama and daddy so sharply that the smothering, overwhelming feeling of loss almost cut him in two. Maintaining those traditions established by his parents acted as a double-edged sword. On one hand, he found immense joy in participating in the routines and rituals begun with his own very first Christmas and modified to accommodate more little hands year after year. On the other hand, his mother and father were gone.

Both parents had made certain that each son had a specific role in which to embrace the holiday.

As he had done with Adam, Mr. McFadden always relegated the placing of the angel on the top of the Christmas tree to the baby boy. Brian's tenure with the angel came to an end with the birth of Crane, who had four Christmases as angel placer before Daniel arrived. Evan usurped him. Then little Ford reigned until Guthrie's birth. Adam's dad would make a big to-do and the whole family would gather around the decorated tree, smiling and waiting with anticipation for the finishing touch and most prized ornament to be added to the tip top. His mother would stand poised with the camera ready to record the climactic moment. Their father would swing the little one onto his shoulders and shrug his own broad shoulders a bit to secure the little body. Inevitably the baby would fist one hand in his dad's hair as he gripped the angel with the other.

Their dad never complained.

With his siblings acting as yuletide cheerleaders the youngest would fit the angel to the very top branch. His dad would reach up and adjust the figure to make sure it fit snugly and would not topple, secure against the aromatic pine branches and nestled among strings of lights, ornaments, and handmade decorations.

Hoisting Guthrie to his own strong shoulders to situate the angel just a few months earlier Adam met Brian's eyes. For a hauntingly poignant moment Brian's eyes reflected the explosion of heartbreak in his own.

One sleepless night a couple of weeks before their first Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday season Adam lay awake mentally projecting his worries onto his hopes for the upcoming season.

How could he pull off days of jolly happiness when he still fought the shroud of depression every single moment? He knew his healing still needed time, and more time, but ironically, the calendar changing day after day had done little to make his heart hurt less.

Adam repositioned himself to lie on his side. Evan had crept into bed with him earlier, and Adam smoothed the blanket over the little boy.

Protecting that little boy was now his duty.

Adam brushed back the child's blond bangs. Despite himself- despite his own emotional state- he had to make November and December good for his brothers.

Perhaps creating a couple of new traditions would allay some of his own misgivings, as well as establish a new normal for them all.

So the McFaddens celebrated with a blend of mostly old traditions but also some new ones just introduced.

For the first month after the death of his parents Adam acted and reacted from his stance as eldest son. Two months later he straddled the line between everyone's big brother and newly appointed parent. Another couple of months later he had almost entirely tipped into a permanent parental role- while only a residual Adam-the-big-brother remained.

His entire world adjusted incrementally.

One evening the family returned home long after dark, having spent the evening and into the night at one of Brian's football games. Stooping to unlatch restraints from Guthrie's car seat and around Daniel he shifted both sleeping children into his arms and positioned them so that their heads could rest on his shoulders. Evan, Crane and Ford blinked sleepily but followed obediently.

Trudging carefully up the steps he motioned Crane to open the front door so that they could enter, then waited patiently in the little foyer for Evan to engage the lights. Once the living room was lit and they could see, Crane, Ford, and Evan climbed tiredly, and Adam followed quietly. Halfway up he paused and regarded the pictures framing the staircase, photos of the seven boys taken, framed, and arranged before the tragedy. How much had changed since then! How he had changed! He couldn't even recognize himself as the carefree teen he had once been.

Adam nuzzled the side of Guthrie's head before dropping a soft kiss onto Daniel's dark hair. More than anything, he dreaded failing the boys, terrified of somehow damaging them beyond repair.

 **Reverend Samuels interrupted Adam's reverie and prodded. "That self-doubt, Son? The worry deep inside that you need to do more? Hmmm?"**

"You have most definitely confused me," Adam admitted.

"Actually I had more to say. The point is that all parents feel that way. Every day. But what I want you to understand is that your misgivings are normal."

Adam twirled a pencil through his fingers. "Even the mistakes?"

"Even the mistakes."

"Sometimes I start yelling before I find out…"

"…normal," Reverend Samuels interrupted.

Adam licked his lips. "My vocabulary and repertoire of phrases now-" he raised his shoulders and shrugged. "Now I sound exactly like my folks used to sound. The words just pop out of my mouth like I'm pre-programmed or something."

"Again, perfectly normal," the pastor smiled.

Adam added, "I don't care who started it, I'm ending it! March right upstairs, young man, and straight to your room! Don't make me tell you again!" He took a breath. "I have more."

"Sure you do. Those are survival phrases."

"I have spanked."

"So have I," Reverend Samuels conceded. "And grounded, and yelled. For that matter, I have been short tempered and downright wrong at times. But Adam, none of those flaws necessarily make me a bad parent. They do make me human."

Adam shifted in his seat and whispered, "Thank you."

Reverend Samuels nodded his acknowledgement. "So let's take an honest inventory. Are the boys doing well in school under your care?"

Adam nodded.

"Healthy?"

"All of them," Adam assured the older man. "…and up to date on immunizations."

"Kissed? Hugged? Told you love them?"

Adam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Always."

Reverend Samuels pushed his chair back and stood. "Son, somewhere and sometime in these long months you transitioned from full-time brother to full-time parent. I don't mean that you just jumped into the role because you had to step up and do it. What I want to show you is that you yourself have changed. You have matured. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally, socially- you have evolved into a fine and commendable parent."

Adam closed his eyes and focused on the words for nearly a full minute. He couldn't deny that truth.

He had changed.

Reverend Samuels navigated to the front of his desk and perched against it. "Forgive yourself for mistakes, Son."

"That's a tall order, Reverend. I second guess my own self quite a bit. I do worry, especially I get worried that I'm too quick to discipline." Adam regarded the older man thoughtfully.


	4. Eternities

Eternities

" **Let's take a look at that, then, since it bothers you. What's the purpose of discipline, the crux- or the objective, if you prefer that term?"**

 **Adam didn't hesitate. "Responsibility. And accountability. Definitely accountability." Adam frowned. "I want the boys to appreciate our family operates because of each of us, not just one or two. And at the same time my wish is that my brothers know every second of every day that I care and that they are loved."**

Adam sank back against the cushioning of his chair and allowed his mind to wander.

Something about the way Brian shifted from one foot to another activated Adam's spidey sense. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes to concentrate more completely on his brother. "Let me get this straight," he recapped. "Your story is you flunked the science experiment because your teacher somehow failed to note you and your lab partners had, in fact, completed each of the steps the way she had required."

"See?" Brian nodded conspiratorially, his blue eyes alight with righteous excitement. "You get it!"

Adam put his hands on his hips and blew out a breath. "And you have defended yourself to me for this…" He reached down to take the piece of paper Brian had handed him earlier. "You have argued that Ms. Madison- the same Ms. Madison who has taught that class for as long as I can remember- somehow managed not to notice your lab group following the steps directly. She further failed to see you conduct each section, write down the notes, and keep going until you finished." Adam glanced at the teacher's message written in the top margin. "So I suppose she also erred with her comment that the four of you spent the class time playing and laughing, despite her attempts to redirect you. Is that what you mean? Is that why you failed this?"

Brian's blue eyes lit and he grinned delightedly. "Right, I knew you'd see the problem."

Adam shook his head in bewilderment. "Brian-" He interrupted himself to pick up a pen and sign the paper with a flourish. "I do see the problem- clearly, and can visualize your behavior just the way Ms. Madison described it. Did you think ahead at all?"

Brian glanced down guiltily.

Adam continued. "The fact that you risked punishment plus a bad grade disturbs me, since you stayed grounded so much of last spring. Have you forgotten? Did that experience not teach you anything?"

Grasping the tide had actually turned against him, Brian re-evaluated his approach to appeal to his brother through another avenue-academically. Adam genuinely lit up when one of them brought home a good report and it wouldn't hurt to capitalize on that. "Let's recall that my last report card looked great."

"Yes it did, and it made me proud," Adam agreed. "But the progress report after that had you at a C in Science. So since the progress report is the most recent, my calculations now lead me to believe that you have deteriorated further than a C."

"Maybe not. It's just one grade out of a whole bunch of grades."

"Wrong answer. The grade carries enough weight that Ms. Madison wanted to make me aware of the fact that you failed the experiment."

That managed to drive in the point.

Brian looked stricken and for a split second Adam almost let him off the hook. But common sense prevailed and Adam reminded himself to respond firmly and not give in to his brother's desperate expression.

"So here's the deal," Adam handed the paper back to Brian. "You know the rules about academics, and you also know I warned you two weeks ago that if you didn't pull up that science grade consequences would follow. So from this point you are grounded- no anywhere except school and home and everything is off limits- television, friends, phone. I expect you to devote that extra free time to studying."

Brian opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it. He stayed silent several seconds as he digested the mandate. "For how long?" His troubled expression reflected his upset and disappointment.

"Until your teachers tell me you are passing everything." Adam raised his eyebrows.

"Ms. Madison?"

"Ms. Madison, but I want updates from the rest, also."

"You want me to get them to make a new progress report to bring you? And if I'm passing you'll take back the punishment?"

"Actually you no longer are allowed to bring report cards or progress reports home, remember?"

Brian blushed. Back in the spring he had forged Adam's name on a school paper. Since then he had not been trusted to convey important information from school to home.

"But yes, when you are sure you have everything under control let me know, and I'll arrange the documentation."

"So like next week?" Brian asked hopefully.

"Absolutely. But you have to be in good shape in science plus every other class. My expectation is that you are responsible and accountable."

Brian threw his head back dramatically and exhaled loudly. "You're killing me, Adam, crushing me."

Adam reached over and patted Brian's cheek. He grinned. "Go. This conversation finished and you have chores."

The brothers rarely balked at Adam's role as the family's disciplinarian. In a family of seven children, all of the boys understood the pecking order. The oldest child inherited the rank right underneath the parents as the next in command, the surrogate boss. So even before the death of his parents Adam had established clout with the younger boys. For that reason, issuing orders, settling squabbles, and reinforcing expectations came naturally to him.

What had changed, though, of course, was that he was now the penultimate final say.

For Adam, it took a couple of months after he assumed the role of guardian/ patriarch to stop second guessing every single disciplinary decision he made. In a way that proved a great method to ensure checks and balances, and the more he dealt with his brothers, the more confidence he built about his decisions.

Within a couple of weeks he understood his parents' motive for categorizing misbehavior. They grouped bad behavior into certain parameters, and that pigeonholing evoked consistent and certain consequences.

As a kid he had railed against that impenetrable consistency every time he considered a particular punishment too unbearable. His parents would never budge, however, and if his whining and complaints continued they would simply add yet another consequence. More unpalatable punishments would infuriate him further, but he learned to strategically temper his reaction so as not to venture into the land of parental disrespect.

In the McFadden household, disrespect ranked as a definite no-no.

At some point in those first weeks he finally understood exactly why his folks reacted the way they did. He could empathize with their position.

But they were gone.

And now he managed the family.

Levying discipline and teaching responsibility rested solely on his very young shoulders.

In those first weeks following the tragedy Adam often felt his brothers deliberately ramped up situations to test his authority, his resolve. At those times controlling his temper consumed huge chunks of his energy.

Simple directions would turn into a battle of wills.

Evan especially balked at tending to any of his own personal chores. For instance, he stubbornly refused to strip his bed one Saturday morning so the sheets could be washed, and compounded the problem by crossing his arms defiantly across his chest and puffing out his lip.

Adam regarded the little boy impatiently, reminding himself that Evan was adorable despite his stubborn streak. Like Brian, Evan's build was muscular. Even as a baby it was easy to predict his adult appearance.

Still, Adam had reached the end of his patience, having repeated the instructions four times the past hour. Regarding his tiny blond adversary's scowl, he clenched his jaw in an effort to remain calm. "Okey dokey, then, Evan. Since you have chosen to not do your part with chores this morning, you have forfeited…" He tilted Evan's chin so the little boy made eye contact. "Forfeited means you have given up. So you have forfeited your chance to play outside with the others this afternoon. That is the consequence for not doing your share. Now, for talking back and being disrespectful, I am giving a time out in your room."

Apparently Evan grasped the severity of the punishment. He hurriedly transformed his demeanor to a more pleasant one. "Adam, I changed my…."

"Nope, Little Man," Adam interrupted firmly, "I have not changed mine. You have compromised a huge chunk of my time this morning and now I am running behind on what I need to accomplish." He pointed to Evan's doorway. "Room. Now."

Evan regarded him. His lower lip wobbled, a clear signal of imminent tears. Even upset, Evan resembled a cute Kewpie doll.

Adam steeled himself to resist the adorable face, though, and warned, "Last time, Evan, before I spank you."

Tears gushed then, but Evan decided to end his resistance. He crossed the threshold of his room before turning a miserable face to regard his brother. "I did what you said now and I'm sorry."

"Thank you, and I would like you to remember this next week so this situation doesn't repeat itself."

Evan swiped at his tears. "Do you still love me?"

"What? Of course I love you," Adam assured him as he grabbed the small body and swung him into his arms. "I love you no matter what. If you're good, I love you. If you're bad, I love you. Even when you grow up and have a family and I am old and grey, I will love you. Always." He kissed the top of the blond head and allowed Evan to cuddle, small arms tightened around his big brother's shoulders.

Finally Adam carried him into the bedroom. Locating a box of tissues he yanked one and held it to Evan's nose. "Blow for me."

He set the child on the floor. "All right, I love you but I need to finish my own work."

"I love you a whole bunch," Evan responded.

Reinforcing the values and spirituality set down by their parents dominated most of Adam's own mindset as a parent. The family continued to attend church, to say prayers, and to bless the food each meal, and their beliefs formed the nucleus of who they were. Adam allowed no chance to slip by which hinted at an opportunity to teach or stress values.

One evening as supper finished he reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Guess who wrote to us?"

"Santa!" Daniel shouted.

Adam grinned at Daniel's exuberance. When something excited Daniel the little boy's entire face came alive.

Evan contradicted, "Nope, it's not Christmas. How 'bout the Easter Bunny?"

"Or," Ford opened his mouth and pointed at a molar. "The Tooth Fairy."

"Wrong, wrong, and wrong," Adam replied with a smirk. "And not anywhere close. Who can read the return address?" He held the envelope up at eye level. "Polka dots?"

Guthrie banged his spoon on the table. "Dolka pots!"

"You're so cute!" Brian gushed, leaning over to nuzzle the toddler. "Polka dots. Our Itty Bitties are also polka dots."

Adam swung the envelope from side to side.

Crane answered before Ford, Evan, or Daniel could. "Isabelle wrote!"

"Correct," Adam confirmed. "So let me share her news with all of you."

Isabelle and her daughter, Stella, had stayed with the boys during her struggle to leave an abusive marriage and support herself and Stella. They had eventually moved to Texas to live closer to her parents. Isabelle wrote periodically to update the McFaddens on the new life she and Stella led and never failed to sign off without reminding them again of their generosity and care and assuring them of her gratitude.

Once Adam finished reading Brian rubbed his chin and observed, "The best part of our story with Isabelle is that she will turn around and extend help to someone else. A good Samaritan circle. We began one and she will continue it."

"The cycle will continue," Crane agreed. "One good deed makes other good deeds happen."

"Amen to that!" Daniel contributed, his delivery so genuine and enthusiastic that the others burst into laughter.

 **A knock on the door broke the train of thought. Reverend Samuels pushed back his chair and stood, then called in the voice he used from the pulpit, "Come in."**

Adam swiveled to witness Crane's entrance. He scrambled to his feet. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Crane murmured, "Sorry to interrupt, Reverend, but Adam…" his voice trailed and Adam caught the hint of tears. Crane crossed to his brother and launched himself against Adam, burying his head in his brother's chest. "Adam, I don't feel good. Not at all. I feel really sick," he admitted.

Adam brushed his hand across Crane's face and placed a palm on his cheek. The boy did feel warm.

Adam exchanged a troubled look with Reverend Samuels before wrapping an arm protectively around Crane's thin shoulders. "I'm afraid I have a sick boy here. If you'll excuse me I need to round up the rest of mine and get us home. Thank you for the listening, Reverend. It's been a long time since I poured my heart out to anyone."

Ever respectful, Adam waited for a sign of dismissal.

Reverend Samuels waved towards the corridor. "Go, Son, but just take that one. I'll send the rest of your crew home after church finishes. Plenty of parishioners will volunteer to chauffeur. Leave them here and go get Crane settled."

Adam thanked him and turned Crane in the direction of the hall.

"And Adam?"

"Sir?"

"You have re-created your family, Son. It makes me proud that you have formed the new one with so much wisdom and love."

Adam turned to look over his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. "Well, Reverend Samuels, Sir, I can promise you the wisdom has come about by trial and error and relying upon the way my parents worked. Most definitely when I shared with you that it took a minute, it took a minute!"


End file.
